And made a new-world city.
And all the while the Mountain watched and watched.
Dirt? Well you certainly can’t expect a city’s docks,
or a great station at an entrance port,
to be like a Quaker meeting-house
on a seventh-day noon.
Docks! There’s a magical word! Not unpoetical
let me tell you, if you’ll only close your eyes
and use that “inward eye” your Wordsworth used
for daffodils. My God! you’d think he had secured that “eye”